Croly's is more a poem of strong human passion and charac-illustrate the subjects of mineralogy, botany, natural history, ter, and comes home more to the human "business and and astronomy. A common rose will be shown, a debosom." It is written (the latter) with wonderful splen-veloping from the bud to full bloom, appearing four or five dour of diction and imagery. Few poetical works will be feet high, in all its glory; a butterfly in the same manner more popular in this country, I think-profoundly as it has several feet square, passing through its three stages of deslept in Lethe for the last twenty years. Croly is a clergy-velopment; and all the phenomena of the natural heavens, man, (the Rev. George,) and, having a fat living from the to wit, the sun, moon, and stars." As a list of articles to Church of England, his Pegasus has never been in hack be had for twenty-five cents, I think you will allow the harness, and, I think, shows the ease of pasture-gambol in Professor's advertisement to be worthy of statistical preserhis verse. Tammany Hall is graced to-day with a showy transparency representing a huge owl sitting in a Gothic window, and a Latin motto beneath, declaring that "the countenance || is the index of the mind." I cannot see, by the morning papers, any explanation of the objects of the club whose celebration comes off under these ominous auspices; but if it be a physiognomical society, as the motto would purport, they have chosen well. It were a good symbol also for a club of "minions of the moon," if they were less fond of a lark-better still for a society of poets, if poets were ever (which is doubtful) fond of poetical society. It is the poet's cue to look wise and say little, to get his victual by night, to differ altogether in his habits, as owls do, from birds of other feather. Virgil, indeed, makes the owl a poet: "And oft the owl with rueful song complained From the house-top, drawing long doleful tunes." A copy of the Life of Franklin, by Mr. SPARKS, which is just now about to be issued, lies before me—one of the clean, handsome Library editions for which the Boston presses deserve so much credit. It contains the autobiography of Franklin from the original copy; and, touching this, Mr. SPARKS gives, in his preface, some new information: "He (Franklin) began to write it in England as early as the year 1771, and from time to time he made such additions as his leisure would permit. While he was in France, as Minister Plenipotentiary from the United States, he showed a copy of it to some of his friends there, and one of them, M. Le Veillard, translated it into French. Not long after Dr. Franklin's death, this French translation appeared from the Paris press. It was then re-translated by some unknown but skilful hand into English, and published in London; and this re-translation is the life of Franklin which has usually been circulated in Great Britain and the United States, and of which numerous editions have been printed. And, even to this day, it continues to be read and to be quoted by respectable writers as if it were the author's original work; although the fact of its being a translation is expressly stated in the preface to the first edition, and although twenty-five years have elapsed since the autobiography was published from the original manuscript by Franklin's grandson. In the present volume it is printed from the genuine copy. Notes have been added to illustrate some parts, and the whole is divided into chapters of suitable length, for the convenience of readers." vation. The girdle put around the earth by the English is, to my mind, less powerfully figured forth in their drum-beat (so finely alluded to by WEBSTER) than in the small colonial. looking newspaper-the same article, whether it come from the pagodas of India or the snows of Canada, the sheephills of New South Wales, or the plantations of the Bermu das. By the kindness of my friend AARON PALMER, Esq. (who does business with arms as long as the world's axis, and has correspondences and changes newspapers with every corner of the globe) I have by me, at this moment a file of English Papers published at the seat of the Great Mogul, Delhi, and another published at Bermuda. You would think them all edited by the same man and supplied by the same contributors. They are filled principally, of course, with old English news, but the Delhi paper (only ninety days from the heart of Hindostan !) has some strictures on Lady Sale and her book, which show she is not to be a heroine without the usual penalty of envy and malice. An officer-contributor to the Gazette says: Lady Sale's book as the good folks of England, though the "We were nearly as much on the tiptoe of expectation for secret of its origin was here better known. It would be amusing to print, in parallel columns, the opinions on her production given by the press of India and England; c'est a dire, of those who know what they are writing about and those who do not. I am safe in asserting that, for every eulogium her ladyship has received in England, she has got at least one set down in India The same writer says, in another part of his letter: "We look forward to the notice of our Scinde doings in England. Let not the profit of the acquisition blind you to the iniquity. Our late dealings with that country commenced in perfidy, and went on in blood and rapine. May they not end in retribution !" PYRAMIDS AND PAWNBROKERY. WE have commonly two sweet hours of idleness in the afternoon-two hours that are the juice of our much. squeezed twenty-four hours-two hours that (to borrow a simile from the more homely and toothsome days of authorship) are "as sweet as a pot of lambative elcctuary with a stick of liquorish." At four o'clock, 66 Taking our hat in our hand, a remarkably requisite practice," (Southey.) Professor BRONSON, whose lectures are "going on" and still to "come off," draws a very attractive picture in his advertised prospectus. "The lectures," he says, "will be comparatively free, an admission of twenty-five cents only we button our coat over our resignation, (synonym for dinbeing required." For this, among many other things, he promises that "a key shall be given to the connexion of ner,) and with some pleasant errand that has been laid aside natural and spiritual things by which all mysteries may be for such opportunity, stroll forth. It is sometimes to an arexplained!" "The true source of our ideas on the sub-tist's room, sometimes to a print-shop, sometimes to an unlime and beautiful will be explained, together with the true principles of taste and criticism." "The French baquet, or grand mesmeric reservoir, will be exhibited, and minerals, vegetables, animals, and several persons at a time magnetized; the German rotary magnetic machine for similar purposes; also three or four hundred engravings pertaining to physiology, &c. and each auditor furnished with them gratuitously, with the evening programme; also several hundred paintings, (many expressly imported from London,) to explored street, sometimes to look off upon the Bay, or take a ride in an omnibus-now and then to refresh our covetous desires at Tiffany's. We have lately been the subject of a passion for pawnbrokery, and taking the precaution to leave our little pocket-money at home, we have tampered with exploring and price-asking in these melancholy museums of heart-ache. 46 Twiddling" our pen, this morning, (as Leigh Hunt represents Apollo doing with a sunbeam,) we fell to speculat ing on what it was that made us think, whether we would or no, of the pyramids! This is last-page-day, and we had forty things to write about, but there!—there! ("in my graph is one, and we remember now, another anecdote told mind's eye, Horatio !") stands the "wedge sublime" of a by the caustic person whose comparison we have just quoted. pyramid! Doubtless the ghost of some word, deed, or si- He said that Byron would never have gone to Greece but militude of the day before-but why such pertinacity of ap- for a tailor in Genoa. The noble bard, he went on to say, parition? We did, nor noted, nothing pyramidal yesterday. was very economical, as was well known, in small matters. We watched the General, hanging up, in his new-garnished He had hired a villa at Genoa and furnished it, with the inoffice, Dick's fine print of Sir Walter's monument, and that, || tention of making it a permanent residence. Lord and it is true, is a pyramid in Gothic. We bought yesterday, in || Lady Blessington and a large society of English people of our pawnbroking researches, a bust of a man of genius good style were residing there at the time. In the fullest whom we admired because he found leisure to be a gentle-enjoyment of his house and his mode of life, Byron wanted man,—the accomplished victim of circumstances, just dead at a new coat; and, having some English cloth, he left it with Andalusia-and a pyramid, truncated by a thunderbolt near || his measure in the hands of a Genoese tailor, with no parthe summit, were an emblem of his career that may well ticular instructions as to the making. The tailor, overcome have occurred to us. We were talking and thinking much with the honour of making a coat for an Eccellenza Inglese, yesterday of Moore's confessed completion of his literary || embroidered it from collar to tail, and sent it home with a life-time; and what is his toil, just finished, but the building || bill as thickly embroidered as the coat! Byron kept the of an imperishable pyramid for the memory of his finished thoughts. coat for fear of its being sold, as his, to an actor of Eng. lish parts on the stage, but resolutely refused to pay for more Stay!-an anecdote of Moore occurs to us. He is dead, than the making of a plain and plebeian garment. The tai"by brevet," having seen to, (and got the money for,) his lor threatened an attachment, and Byron assigned over his own "last words ;" and when, by the scythe of the relent-furniture to his banker, and finally quitted Genoa in disgust less mower, Tom Moore shall be no more, to know more of-ready of course, as he would not otherwise have been, his more personal qualities (what an echo there is to the for a new project. From indignation at an embroidered man's name!) will add spices to his embalming. An old coat-tail the transition to "liberty or death," "wo to the lady in Dublin, who was one of Moore's indigenous friends, Moslem!" or any other vent for his accumulated bile, was (he was only aristocratic as an exotic, perhaps you know,) easy and natural! He embarked in the Greek cause soon told us the story. It is not likely to get into print except by after, and the embroidered coat was not (as it should have our telling, for it records a virtue; and Moore is a man to been) "flung to the breeze at Salamis”—the banner of inhave selected his biographer with a special caveat against spired heroism! all contributions to his "life" from its grocery source-his respectable father, the Dublin grocer, probably caring little for his "brilliant successes," and only cherishing in his brown-paper memory the small parcel of his virtues. But to the story-(which Moore told the old lady, by the way, on one of his reluctant Irish visits.) So was the tale told. So tell we it to you, dear reader. It is no damage to the gods or demigods to unpedestal them sometimes. The old Saturnalia, when masters and slaves changed places for a while, was founded on the principle in nature that all high-strung-itudes are better for occasional relaxing. Moore had just returned from his government-office in the We have not done what we sat down to de-which was West Indies, a defaulter for eight thousand pounds. Great to run a pretty parallel between a fame and a pyramidsympathy was felt for him among his friends, and three pro- apropos of some trifles bought of a pear-shaped pawnbroker. positions were made to him to cancel the debt. Lord Lans- Pity that ideas once touched are like uncorked claret-good downe offered simply to pay it. Longman and Murray of- for one draught only! We shall never dare to take up the fered to advance it on his future works, and the noblemen figure again, so we may as well hand you the gold thread at White's offered the sum to him in a subscription. This we meant to have woven into it—a little figurative consolawas at the time subscriptions were on foot for getting Sheri- tion to the unappreciated poet. To him who is building a dan out of his troubles; and while Moore was considering || pyramid of poetical fame, a premature celebrity is like the the three propositions just named, he chanced to be walk-top-stone laid on his back and carried till he has built ing down St. James-street with two noblemen when they up to it. We wish those of our contributors whom we met Sheridan. Sheridan bowed to them with a familiar neither publish nor praise, would apply this " parmeceti" to "how are you?" 'D-n the fellow," said one of the no- their" inward bruise." blemen, he might have touched his hat! I subscribed a hundred pounds for him last night!" "Thank God! you dare make no such criticism on a bow from me!" said Moore to himself. The lesson sank deep. He rejected all the offers made to relieve him-went to Passy, and lived in complete obscurity, in that little suburb of Paris, till he had written himself out of debt. Under the spur of that chance remark were written some of the works by which Moore will be best known to posterity. This reminds us, (and if we don't nab it now, it may never again be nabable,) of a laugh at Moore's expense in a company of very celebrated authors. They were talking him over, and one of the company quoted Leigh Hunt's simile for him-" a young Bacchus snuffing up the vine." "Bah!" said another, "don't quite deify the little worldling! He is more like a cross between a toad and a cupid!" We have got hold of a string and we may as well pull || away to see what will come of it. We had long forgotten two or three trifles tied together, of which this last para We have a heap of poetry on hand, which, written in a column, would overtop the cataract of Tequendama. It is numbered and put in train. Those who write to us to inquire the number of their future predecessors, will please pay their postage. It says something for Williams and Stevens, (we would fain flatter ourselves,) that their reflections pass for ours; and something for our prosperity, that the most sumptuous warehouse for New Mirrors in the city should be taken to be the office of the "New Mirror." We do not sell New Mirrors at No. 343 Broadway, and Williams and Stevens do-both theirs and ours, we trust it may be said, of the best in their kind--but those who want looking-glasses should write to 343 Broadway, and those who want Mirrors for the mind, to 4 Ann-street. We have some embarrassment from letters reciprocally misdirected. "The double gill of this errour, let time wash off!" chosen to our literary flock, and none turn the facп without its false and decent amenny where you will always be certain of finding hearts, over- The marquis, although the love and esteem he had ever cherished for hi: Giulia had not undergone the slightest diminution, opposed but feebly her departure for the villa of Albano. |